When Perfect Meets Crazy

19 - I think I could like him

I turned away from the incessant tapping, pulling the covers over my head in defiance. My mind refused to even consider who it might be. The blissful nothingness of sleep was just too sweet for me to consider waking up.

"Wake up." The tapping continued.

I rolled away, curled into a foetal position and tried to burrow deeper into restful nothingness. It was just one of those days when sleep feels sweeter. I hadn't had one of those in a while so I was determined to enjoy it for as long as possible.

Whoever was tapping me clearly hadn't gotten the memo.

I half buried my face in my pillow, humming blissfully as I waited to fall deeper into sleep only to find that my sleep rhythm had been disrupted.

I could feel myself slowly waking up much to my annoyance.

No. Please, don't. No.

A tug on the covers completed the wake up process.

"What!" I hissed, yanking the covers down. "What? What? What!"

My eyes found the culprit and for a second my brain blanked out.

Huh?

I couldn't for the life of me remember why Masked Idiot was in my room or why he seemed to think it was okay to interrupt my sleep.

No, seriously. Why did he think interrupting my sleep would be okay? Did I seem that amicable to him? That harmless and forgiving?

In a way, the fact that it didn't make sense made sense. For starters, Masked Idiot being in my room while I was asleep was just a little crazy. And to top it off, he was waking me up. That was even crazier. It had been years since anyone had to wake me up. I just wasn't the type to be late which is what usually happens when one sleeps in so I never sleep in. I was always up and ready on time in the mornings and sleeping during the daytime wasn't something I normally indulged in so there was never a need to wake me up. Even groggy and disoriented, I knew that being woken up, especially by Masked Idiot, meant something was seriously off.

"You've been sleeping for hours. You need to eat," he announced.

My gaze landed on his royal blue long sleeved shirt. The shade was so vibrant I almost couldn't bring myself to look directly at him. I squinted, brows furrowing as memories of the ice cream parlor and drive back home flooded my mind.

Ahhh, I see... but...

"You're still here?" Surprise colored my tone as my brain struggled to catch up. "Why are you still here?"

He shrugged self consciously. "You're sick. I couldn't exactly leave you by yourself."

"I had a fever. I was hardly dying," I replied flatly.

"Well, you look better now," he declared, reaching over to palm my forehead.

Thanks to the sleep induced grogginess and disorientation, it didn't even occur to me to move away. I just sat there like an idiot, my eyes wide open as he reached over and felt my temperature. His scent enveloped me. It was warm, expensive and clean.

I swallowed.

"You feel fine," he disclosed.

"I am fine," I seconded.

I was also very hungry but I kept that little nugget to myself. The last thing I was going to do, disoriented or not, was admit to hunger after our little spat about me only eating an apple all day.

I was finally getting back in tune with reality post-sleep induced disorientation.

"Hang on." He disappeared through the door before I could formulate a reply. I was left frowning and speechless on my bed, wondering just why he felt comfortable enough to tell me -the person who actually lived in the house- to 'hang on' while he -a creepy criminal with one too many skeletons in his closet- went gallivanting around my house.